There was a strange wondering relief upon her keen white face, as she listened for his words, seeing the old boyish mysticism brighten in his eyes. “But let me keep on trying to understand. They cannot be very easy to bear, the things you have been telling me about, all that I have been so dull and slow to guess. It will never do for either of us to let Christmas day go out in the blues. The air seemed full of good cheer this morning; we mustn’t lose that, you and I, just because we are being drawn into the evening. You have been cheer itself to me through all these years; if only I knew the word to say to you now! My thoughts don’t feel very clear or manageable, but you know I want to find the right word! You who have always known what to say to me.” He fell thoughtful and silent, then looked up quickly, “You see it was for that reason that I couldn’t help asking you to look after Murray, because I knew what you had done for me. I have had every hope for him, and you know how hard it is for me to give up a thing I have hoped for,--that is why I caught at your friendship for him as the one security now. I thought perhaps there would be for you the pleasure in his brain, in his strength, that I have felt. But no, now I see it cannot be. It would all be too hard on you. I know, of course,” he sighed, “Murray’s faults. I’ve cared too much for him not to know them; that was another reason, my love for him, that made me want to feel that I was leaving him to you, to help him through--what lies before him. But now I see it would be painful and difficult for you--one man who has always brought you all the worry of his work has been enough! And even to-day I have been bringing it all to you still, troubling you with my work and worry and Murray and Westbury! Lucy, believe me, I never meant to be selfish with it! I see at last that I have been. “And Westbury,--shall we leave that subject quiet, too, as being troublesome to-day? And the Southside Mission and all the other missions, and the spirit that enkindles them, and must be kept alive here and everywhere--one tries to keep the fire alight, but one must go some day, trusting, hoping, not _knowing_, for that is too much to ask! I will try not to trouble you with all that, any more, to-day. It was a good deal, wasn’t it, to ask you to keep a whole town--alive! One of my dreams! Such incorrigible dreams they must seem to you, I’m afraid. I am always looking into dreams, you said. And perhaps my Westbury is all a dream, for it has always seemed to me one of the holy places. It does not seem, when you talk, to be that to you. You see, I thought we were one in our love for it,--that is why I talked of leaving it to you--it all sounds now, doesn’t it, a little fantastic? Have I always lived in fantasy then? Are you showing me truth at the last, Lucy?”